


TF2 Secret Santa 2015

by Oddport



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, cross faction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oddport/pseuds/Oddport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2015 Secret Santa!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Matter of Priciple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoCapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoCapes/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of a match. What better time for Spy to bug Engineer on why he's been giving him the cold shoulder for the past week?

“Are you still cross with me?”

Engineer set his jaw, pointedly ignoring the question as he ducked down behind his sentry, taking cover from the shrapnel flying up from the BLU Demoman’s grenades. A round of suppressive fire followed, the Heavy charging in with mini-gun blazing. It was all the Texan could do to keep the sentry upright as its damage indicators screeched above the noise of the fray. As soon as the smoke cleared, he gave the turret a few good whacks from his wrench and sent a return volley back.

It made him feel a little better when he heard the sound of bodies hitting the floor to be claimed by respawn.

“Are you quite done?”

“Are you still here?”

He didn’t bother to hide the irritation in his voice.

Patent leather soles tapped lightly on the concrete floor as the BLU Spy dropped from his hiding place. As Engineer listened to the approach, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end until he heard the soft hum of a cloak dropping. It meant that the Frenchman wasn’t here to kill him. 

At least not right away.

“I will be until you answer my question.” Spy leaned up against the intelligence desk. His eyes flicked over to the briefcase that was tantalizingly close before directly his attention back to Engineer. “You have ignored me for a week. You had sentries set up at your workshop when I tried to see you during downtime. I think I deserve an explanation.”

An irritated look crossed Engineer’s face. “You sapped my sentry, sapped my dispenser, and stabbed me in the back. All after using my teleporter to get in here! Which, I might add, you also sapped!”

Spy crossed his arms. “It is my job, _Del_. Have you forgotten that we are here to actually work?”

Lifting his welding goggles to rest on his hardhat, Engineer turned and glared at Spy. “No. In fact, I probably have a better idea than all the rest of you why we’re here.”

“So then why the theatrics, mon am-”

“Don’t you ‘mon amour’ me, Spook.”

Spy sighed and crossed his arms. “Then why the theatrics, Dell?”

He saw the Engineer bristle at the question. If there was one thing that the Texan prided himself on, it was on being a practical person.

“I don’t mind when you get one over on me fair and square, or whatever passes for that for a spy. But did you have to do that damn taunt after?”

Spy winced a little at that. He’d been sure that the Engineer had already been dead, but with the smoky lenses of those welding goggles, it was so hard to tell. Still, giving him the cold shoulder for the better part of a week over such a little thing was a little juvenile. 

“And that is what this is about? A taunt?"

Engineer drew himself up, his 5’6” frame remarkably imposing despite the lack of height. “Respect, Spy. It’s about respect. When your job is to repeatedly kill and steal from the one you come home to at night, I’d think that not taunting over their dead body would be plain ol’ horse sense.”

Principle. If there was one thing that Spy had learned about the man, it was that he could live and die on principle.

“You have me here, no weapon in my hand. Would a free kill make you feel better?”

The question should have been insulting, like something an exasperated adult would ask to indulge a child. But coming from Spy… Well, it meant that the man was actually feeling a little guilty. And damn if an honest emotion coming from the rogue wasn’t enough to warm the Texan’s heart.

“It would. But I won’t.” 

Spy looked a little surprised, but didn’t say a word. 

“Yer a snake, Spy. A double-crossing, two faced, back-stabbing snake who doesn’t think twice about playing both sides of the fence.” Engineer reached out and grabbed the expensive silk tie that decorated the other man’s neck, and pulled him down to his own level. “But like my mamma used to say, ‘if you play with a snake, don’t blame him when you get bit.’”

Engineer gave the tie a yank, causing Spy to stumble forward into the solid little mass of man in front of him. 

“I knew what I was getting into.” Engineer said softly as he tilted up to capture Spy’s lips with his own. “I’m a damn fool for it, so I only have myself to blame.”

Spy leaned into the kiss and couldn’t help letting out a happy moan as Engineer let his tie go in favor of wrapping hand around his neck. The calloused fingers of his ungloved hand teasing at the edge of his mask, a strangely intimate gesture that he had missed. 

“For what it is worth, I’m sorry. A lapse in judgement that I will not allow to happen again.”

Engineer let out a little sigh. “That’s all I wanted, Spook.” The sounds of footsteps thundering down the hallway reached their ears. “Sounds like your boys are back.”

Spy reluctantly pulled away from Engineer. “I should leave you to your work, then.”

“And you should get back to yours.” Engineer pulled his goggles down and turned back to the turret gun in front of him. 

Reaching into the jacket of his suit, Spy pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting one, he casually looked at his watch, noting that his cloak was still recharging. His teammates could burst into the room at any moment and see him here, simply standing behind the RED Engineer, mere feet away from the briefcase that held the intelligence that they so desperately fought over. 

As he watched Engineer furiously making last minute repairs to the sentry and dispenser, he knew that the man was well aware of the mechanics of a spy’s cloak, and how easy he was making it. He could sink his knife into the man’s back, grab the intelligence and casually stroll out to meet his comrades, who would be none the wiser to the conversation that had just taken place. 

Easy, but terribly unsporting.

He let out a plume of blue smoke as he heard the lumbering footsteps of Heavy coming closer. Dropping the cigarette on the floor, he rubbed it out with his shoe before pulling out his revolver. Slipping up behind the Engineer, he saw those square shoulders bracing, anticipating the cold metal of his butterfly knife slipping in between his bones. Instead, Spy slipped one arm under the front flap of Engineer’s overalls to feel the warmth of the man’s chest through the thin cotton fabric of his RED uniform shirt as he pulled him close. 

“A clean start this time.” He lightly pressed his lips to the sun baked skin of the Engineer’s neck. “I shall see you on the field, mon amour.”

The revolver shot rang loudly in the small intelligence room, and Engineer stood frozen in place as Spy’s arm slipped limply away. A few moments later, there was a whirring sound and he knew that Spy would be waking up in BLU’s respawn room in a few short seconds.

Chuckling to himself, Engineer shook his head. “Who’s being theatric now?”


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer once again finds himself burning the midnight oil. On his way to the kitchen for a late night snack, he finds himself with company.

Engineer wasn’t aware of the pain in his back. It was an odd thing, but the Texan was bound and determined to complete his schematic before the furlough period was over. He was bent over his workbench, carefully running calculations in his head as he drew out angles, so close to figuring out how to make a mobile sentry that he could almost taste it. The thrill of being on the edge of cracking the design was enough to ignore the ache that had started as a dull pang until it refused to be ignored anymore and started stabbing him in his neck.

Conagher pig-headedness; that’s what his ma had always called it. A questionably noble work ethic that had been passed down from one generation of Conagher to the next.

Slowly pulling himself upright, Engineer looked up at the clock on the workshop wall as the hour hand ticked past 11 PM. Letting out a groan, he rubbed his face with his hand. He hadn’t intended to work this far into the night but, once again, time had gotten away from him. There was going to be a match in the morning and here he was, not even having had dinner. As there wasn’t any question about going to bed on an empty stomach, he carefully rolled up his drawings and put them in away in their secured drawer. 

Never knew when spies were about. 

As he stepped out into the hall, he was suddenly aware of the silence. No doubt the rest of the team had done the sensible thing and already turned in for the night. Just a quick bite and he’d do the same. He could still get a good six hours at this rate.

The steel toed boots that he wore during the day had been kicked off long ago, so Engineer was able to move as quietly as a man of his stout build could go as he padded towards the kitchen. He’d made some of Granny Conagher’s prize-winning biscuits earlier that week, and he was pretty sure he’d been clear about those being his private stash. Add a quickly fried egg and some butter, and that would be a neat little snack to tide him over until morning.

He had almost made it to the kitchen when he heard a noise from the common area. Apparently not everyone had decided it was time for some shut eye. Poking his head in, he heard the familiar muffled mumbles of Pyro.

The firestarter was sitting on the edge of the fireplace hearth at the far end of the common room, a small little fire burning brightly despite the warmth of the New Mexico nights. At their side was the Balloonicorn that they had taken to carrying with them during the off-hours as of late. No one knew where the thing had come from, and no one was all that interested in asking. Sometimes there were questions you just didn’t want to know the answers to.

Engineer was about to pull away when Pyro started mumbling. At first, he thought that the ‘words’ were directed at him, but before he could open his mouth to answer, Pyro picked up the Balloonicorn and mumbled again. This time it was in a higher pitched mumble, and when they switched back to their normal tone, Engineer realized that they were having a conversation with the thing. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

On the one hand, Pyro was always a little bit of an odd duck. On the other, it seemed kind of… sad. 

“Aw hell.” Engineer muttered. It just seemed wrong to leave Pyro with just a balloon for company. He knocked on the wall. “Howdy, partner.”

Pyro jumped at the noise, pulling the Balloonicorn close with a surprised squeak. Glassy black eyes looked towards Engineer for a minute, unblinking and unknowable, before turning slowly back to the Balloonicorn. Slowly, they set the toy on the floor and Engineer suddenly got the feeling he knew what his ol’ man felt like when catching the younger Conagher playing with Teddy Roosebelt while home on break from university. 

“Didn’t mean to interrupt the fun there, Pyro.” Engineer stepped into the room and crouched down next to the other mercenary. “I just didn’t reckon’ anyone else would be up at this time of night.”

Pyro shifted on the carpet, their gloved hands fidgeting nervously.

“Since yer up, why don’t you join me? I could use the company.” Carefully, he laid a hand on Pyro’s shoulder and he felt the other merc start at the contact. The masked head slowly turned, blank eyes first looking at the hand on their shoulder before looking up at Engineer. Engineer just smiled and stayed as still as he could. Pyro suddenly very much reminded him of a skittish animal.

A few minutes passed, as Pyro seemed to be considering their options. Then they hopped to their feet, and picked up the Balloonicorn with a muffled “Huh!”

Engineer was pretty sure that was a “yes”.

When they reached the kitchen, Engineer pulled out the ingredients for his snack out and set them on the counter as Pyro pulled out a chair for the Balloonicorn. After making sure that the toy was secure, Pyo sat themselves down and watched as the Texan busied himself with his dinner. 

“You want one?” Engineer asked as the egg fried away on the pan.

“Eh huh murh muphmuphs.”

“Don’t like biscuits?” The butter sizzled in the pan as he cracked an egg with his normal precision on the edge of the counter. “You know,” he looked back over his shoulder at Pyro with a grin, “where I’m from them’s fighting words.”

Pyro jumped up, their fists coming up and feet spread apart in a cartoonishly exaggerated fighting posture. Engineer wasn’t quite sure what to say, but then the mercenary’s head tilted to the side and muffled laughter rumbled out of the mask.

Shaking his head, Engineer expertly flipped the egg neatly onto the biscuit. “Yer something else, you know that, firebug?”

A shrug was their only answer before they let themselves flop back into the seat. Engineer sat down next them after grabbing a glass of milk from the Frigidaire. Granny Conagher’s recipe or no, three day old biscuits needed something to wash them down. 

He felt a little self-conscious at first; he wasn’t used to having an audience while he ate, but a happy humming sound was coming from the mask, and Pyro seemed perfectly content to just sit there next to him. The small clock on the kitchen’s wall pinged the hour as Engineer finished eating, and he quickly cleaned up the plate and pan as Pyro continued to watch. 

“Well, time for me to turn in. Thanks for joining me, Pyro.”

For the first time in an hour, Pyro stilled and those black eyes looked at Engineer. The tilt in the head, gave him the impression that Pyro was thinking something over. Finally, they spoke.

“Muh eh hunnm nuh hummuru?”

It took him a minute to figure out the words, but when he got it, the soft tone of the question made a small smile cross the Texan’s face.

“Sure, partner. You can come visit me tomorrow.”

Everyone needed company, after all.


	3. Corner Pocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper's camper is in need of some major work. Good thing Engineer is happy to be paid in beer.

“Damn, Stretch. What in god’s green earth have you been doin’ to this poor thing?” 

Sniper tipped up his slouch hat and looked over at Engineer. The Texan was elbow deep in the engine of his camper with assorted bits and pieces strewn across the floor around him.

“Driving it.” He got up off the crate that he’d been sitting on and strode over to the side of the faithful vehicle that had carried him across two continents. “There a problem?”

“Looks like you brought half the damn Outback with you.” Engineer grumbled as he stepped off the step ladder he was using to get a better view under the hood. “Gonna be better off if I just take this whole thing apart and start from scratch.”

Sniper looked into the mass of machinery, trying to see what it was that looked to be causing the Texan such consternation. He wasn’t completely in the dark when it came to mechanical issues, but when the camper had started making a rather alarming grinding noise, the Australian had opted to swallow his pride and go to the expert.

“That bad, eh?”

Engineer rummaged through a pile of random parts and electronics that were littering his workshop. “You’ve been runnin’ her low on oil, and I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you probably can’t remember the last time the filters were changed.” He picked up a few random pieces that Sniper couldn’t identify if he’d had a gun placed to his head. “And on top of that, she’s got some weird Australian electrics that I’m gonna have to special order. The long and short of it is you’re gonna owe me for this.”

“Shit.” Sniper knocked his slouch hat back as he ran his fingers through his hair. “That means the good stuff, doesn’t it?”

He heard a chuckle behind him from the Texan. “Sure does, Slim. Sure does.”

***

There was only one bar in the tiny town of Teufort. A little hole in the wall dive, it was the perfect place for mercenaries who wanted to disappear for a few hours. Dim lights, smoky air, and a blue-haired bartender who was far too old for any sort of flattery (although it never hurt to try) made for a strangely intimate escape from the chaos that was the 2Fort base.

A well-worn billiards table was the pride and joy of the place, with a stained glass table light hanging above it like a brightly lit jewel in the middle of the drab New Mexico desert. On its edge was perched a bottle of Australian Australium IPA. It was the most expensive thing in the place, and largely ignored by the locals, but ordered by the caseload once it was discovered that mercenaries with far more money than sense would happily lay down for something several steps up from Red Shed or Blue Streak.

Engineer picked up the bottle in his fingers and took a sip of the bitter, hoppy drink before setting it back down with a happy grin. From his position on the other side of the table, Sniper just shook his head.

“Still not sure what you see in that stuff, Truckie.”

“That’s because you’re not a beer drinker, Slim.” Engineer picked up his cue and looked at the balls that were spread across the table. “If you were, you’d know that the stuff stocked at base ain’t much better than rainwater.”

“Solly seems to like it.”

“Solly barely has two brain cells to rub together after all that rocket jumping.” Engineer snorted. “You could wrap anything in the red, white and blue and the man would treat it like the second coming.”

Sniper chuckled from his perch on a nearby stool as he watched the Texan slowly walk around the table. He could practically see the gears turning in the man’s head; those eleven PhDs all working to figure out angles, degrees, and force calculations. He saw the man’s eyes light up as somehow everything fell into place and he lined up his stick with the cue ball. There was a satisfying crack, and the white ball spun across the table, bouncing off the green felt and knocking two stripes solidly into the side and corner pockets before coming to a stop perfectly placed behind the black eight ball.

“Your turn, Slim.”

“Shit, really?”

Slipping off the stool, Sniper slowly walked around the table. Once again he found himself literally and figuratively behind the eight ball.

They’d quit playing by the normal rules a while back, once Sniper had started to refuse to play since once Engineer got going, there was little chance of him doing anything but cleaning up the felt after the Texan had already won. Now they played by their own special rules, back and forth, and the winner was whoever had all their balls sunk first.

Not that it had really changed the outcome too much. Sniper let out a sigh and lined up the best shot that he could.

Frankly, getting Engineer drunk was the only hope Sniper had of winning.

***

It was about 2 AM when the two men staggered out of the bar. Engineer from the six or seven (he’d really lost count) beers that currently had him buzzing around in his happy place, and Sniper from having to stoop down with the Texan’s arm draped over his neck. Sniper slowly maneuvered his friend towards the passenger side of the truck that they had arrived in several hours ago and hoisted him into the cab, the stout man laughing as he apparently found the process highly amusing.

After he had his friend securely fastened in, Sniper hoisted himself into the cab and took a minute to remember where everything was in the American made truck before throwing the stick into reverse and pulling out onto the empty New Mexico road. 

The soft hum of rubber on asphalt must have been a soothing lullaby, for soon Engineer was gently snoring in the passenger seat. Sniper smiled and shook his head. 

At least he’d managed to win one tonight.


	4. The Colors She Wore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For men defined by RED or BLU, colors have significance.

The first time Spy had seen her, she was dressed in red.

It wasn’t the red of Christmas or St. Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t celebratory at all. It was the red of blood, both fresh and dried, that stained her uniform as she tended to the men and boys who stumbled, staggered, and were carried into the medical tents on the edge of the field. 

He didn’t remember how he had come to be there, but when he opened his eyes there had been an angel standing over him.

Cold shears had cut away his mask, and he had winced as the drying blood had pulled at his wounds. She’d been as gentle as she could as she worked to save his life. There was risk for her in helping him. He was part of no army, working in the shadows to help liberate his homeland from the invaders with methods that were frowned upon by the armchair generals.

He’d taken his time convalescing, and she indulged him in small talk as she went about her business. When he’d be able to stand again, she joined him as he slowly strolled around the field hospital, holding his arm a little closer than was really required of an attentive nurse. After a few weeks the talk had turned more personal, and hands drifted to places that could hardly be called professional. 

There was no reason he should have been special to her, but for some reason he was.

When she’d left, her unit called to some other god forsaken battlefront, there had been few tears. Love had no place in war, and neither were so naive as to think that what they had would be any different. She left him with a city, Boston, and an invitation to look her up if he ever passed through. 

He doubted he would, but smiled and said he’d remember that.

***

The second time Spy had seen her, she was dressed in white.

Boston wasn’t a normal stop for him, but weather had been bad and his flight had been diverted to Logan. From the lonely perch of his hotel, he had looked out over the city and wondered. Wondered if the little nurse remembered the wounded spy, and the invitation that had been given. It had been years, almost a decade at this point, but her face had been in his mind almost every day.

It didn’t take him long to find out where she was. There were only so many hospitals in the city, and when she walked out, he’d been waiting. She’d been surprised to see him, which was understandable, but she’d smiled after the shock had worn off. 

Time had done little to change her. There was a little gray starting to show in the stylishly done black hair, and a little more softness to the curves of her body, but when she’d laughed and thrown her arms around him, it was as if no time had passed. They’d walked through the city, arm in arm, reminiscing about the past, asking about the present and wondering about the future. 

She was now a mother, he was still a spy.

He’d asked about her family. She’d told him about the eight rambunctious boys whose father had taken a sudden left turn at a gentleman’s club just outside of Newark while on an extended business trip that just continued to be extended.

She’d asked about his work and he’d given her everything but an answer as honestly as he could.

She seemed to accept it. Which was part of what he loved about her. 

When time had come for him to go, he’d asked if he could come back. She took his hands in hers and said yes.

And he did come back, although never with any regularity. It could be for a night or for a week. Sometimes he would call or write, but just as often he’d show up out of the blue. But eventually he grew to know the boys who always swarmed him at the door when he walked through. She’d watch him from the kitchen as he entertained them with stories, and when she wasn’t watching he’d entertain them with knife tricks.

After a while, it came to feel practically domestic, which had never been something that he was particularly keen on. But with her it felt right. It felt like he finally had a place where he could come home.

***

The next time Spy had seen her, and every time since, she was dressed in blue.

It had hurt a little the first time, but he couldn’t blame her. The boy was her son, after all, but Spy supposed he was partially to blame for the boy’s desire for mercenary work. A mystery man breezing through his life, bringing stories from exotic locations and keeping a family of eight children supported well above the standard of their peers would inevitably have some sort of impact. 

The boy had pride, no doubt inherited from his mother and fostered by the man who had come to replace his own father. Between the two of them, she would never have to work another day in her life. However, she hadn’t been pleased when the boy had told her the news. 

But Spy had some connections and was able to secure a place with Reliable Excavation and Demolitions and promised to keep an eye on him. He told her about the innovative respawn system that let men defy death, and about the odd German doctor who was making fascinating advances in the area of field medicine. A man could be shot, blown up, fall to his death or otherwise horribly maimed with little lasting damage. It had taken some time, but eventually she seemed satisfied.

And Spy couldn’t complain too much. After all, he had been the one who had slipped the Builder’s League United recruitment poster under the boy’s door. 

Not that he’d told her. 

But she likely already knew.


End file.
